


Failing This Balancing Act

by fishyspots



Category: Glee
Genre: But Mostly Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, but its for the angst meme so..., like burt is a colossal douche
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishyspots/pseuds/fishyspots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t mean to hurt his kid’s feelings; he just didn’t know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Failing This Balancing Act

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for a prompt on the Glee Angst Meme: "Kurt and Finn both have big event on the same day. For Finn it's the playoffs (or whatever a big game is called in football) and it's rumored that college scouts will be there. For Kurt it's the cheer leading nationals. 
> 
> They're both on the same night so Burt can only go to one or the other. He decides to go to Finn's game because football is more his thing and Finn's bound to be nervous with the scouts there. 
> 
> Kurt is hurt but pretends not to be. 
> 
> Bonus points if: Finn doesn't get scouted (we've seen that team play. They're not very good) But Kurt does. Kurt can get discovered by a college cheer leading coach or a talent scout."

He didn’t mean to hurt his kid’s feelings; he just didn’t know.

Finn had been talking for weeks about the OSU scout, Cooter something, that was bound to show up at the Section championship the following Friday night. Hell, even Carole had gotten excited, although her enthusiasm may have been attributed to her inability to make the game. Burt understood, even if Finn didn’t; her aunt had been sick for a long time, and she only had three more days of paid vacation this year. 

Burt got it, he did. Finn pitched the masculine version of a hissy fit when he found out his mom wouldn’t be there. Even Kurt had been shocked by his anger, and the corner chair in the dining room would never stand straight again. 

Finn’s excitement almost doubled in intensity when he learned that his coach planned on him starting as quarterback. Burt had seriously debated packing a tranquilizer dart gun that Friday night dinner, worried that the boy would accidentally bite his own tongue off with the speed he was babbling.

Kurt, on the other hand, hadn’t even mentioned his singing show until the week before, and even then, it was only in passing. Burt had just gotten home from a long day at the shop, already on edge due to some idiot bringing in a failed experiment in engine tinkering and expecting a quick fix. 

Kurt had waltzed in after school, fairly skipping with excitement, and blurted, “Nationals, Dad! I’m going to Nationals, and Coach Sylvester might even give me a solo since Mercedes quit!” 

Burt, taken aback, tried frantically to remember if Kurt had told him when Mercedes quit. He thought the dancing (or was it cheerleading? Why couldn’t he remember??) was supposed to strengthen their friendship, or help with team bonding, or…something. Burt weighed his options. This tightrope act of two children was harder than it looked. If he asked, Kurt would be disappointed that he didn’t remember talking about it. However, if he didn’t ask, and this was one of Kurt’s open-ended statements, almost begging for the question, Kurt would sigh dramatically and flounce off in a huff, also disappointed. He resigned himself to failure either way, and hoped the net still worked. “When did Mercedes quit, bud?”

The change in Kurt wasn’t visible to the untrained eye. His shoulders slumped infinitesimally, and the brightness in his eyes dimmed slightly. “Last week, Dad. Tuesday maybe?” Even his voice had lost some of its energy.

Burt nodded minutely. The net was less springy than usual, but still functional. He heaved a sigh; in for a penny, in for a pound. “These nationals…they’re not Glee nationals, are they?”

Kurt’s eyes filled, and Burt watched as he quickly composed himself, blinking back his tears. “Cheerleading, actually. Remember how I told you a month or so ago that we had won Regionals with a Madonna duet?” Kurt wasn’t making eye contact, busying himself with the hem of his sweater, picking at a loose thread here and there. 

Burt hated this. Their relationship had never been this strained or distant. Although, when he thought about it, he and Kurt were still closer than Finn and Carole, at least to his knowledge. He had never felt closer to Finn, though. He had stopped pulling Finn out of class for sporting events, because it felt like he was flaunting their relationship to Kurt, who always seemed to notice him roaming the halls in search of Finn’s various classrooms. However, they simply recorded the games onto Kurt’s DVR and watched them later in the night, usually with a pizza or burger in their hands. Burt had worked it all out a few weeks prior, and Kurt normally didn’t get back from dance (cheerleading, damn it, he said it was cheerleading) until at least eight o’clock each night. That gave Finn and Burt a nice window when no one worried about calories or grease stains on the sofa. Burt had done a decent job of cleaning up after them, and he was fairly certain that Kurt was unaware of their nightly bonding over Buckeyes and meat lover’s deluxe.

Kurt shook his head, steadying himself. Burt watched as his son picked himself up and effortlessly slipped a mask into place, a fake smile covering all of his face except his eyes. “I’m going to find Carole. She told me to tell her all about my basket toss attempt at practice; she gave me some pointers last night.” He made for the stairs when Burt called him back.

“These, uh, nationals of yours…when are they, bud?” Burt allowed himself to hope. He couldn’t let Kurt down on this. It wasn’t his scene, but he’d suffer in silence if it meant making his boy smile. He would do anything to prove himself to Kurt, and he couldn’t afford to screw this up. After the basement and the song in the auditorium (Rose’s Spin, maybe?) he knew his relationship with Kurt was already on the rocks. They needed this. Badly.

Kurt’s smile brightened for a moment, became real. “Friday. The competition starts at five, but we don’t perform until seven, I think…why do you ask?” The hope in his son’s face was crushing. The net spontaneously combusted and the tightrope snapped within a split second. He was a terrible father. 

Burt steeled himself; he had already promised Finn. He wasn’t guilty, and none of this was his fault. None of it was Kurt’s fault either, or Finn’s. The universe must have been seriously pissed off at him, and he suddenly regretted ever lying to his son, because if this was karma, it was unusually cruel today. “Just curious, that’s all. Good luck with the cheering, bud.” The look of disappointment on the countertenor’s face pulled at his heartstrings; he couldn’t handle hurting his son like this. But there was literally nothing he could do to mend this rift. Finn’s game started at seven, and was an away game against the Celina bulldogs. There was no way he could go watch Kurt dance, drive 45 minutes, and catch the game, or vice versa. It just wasn’t possible, and he had promised Finn first.

As if his kid wasn’t upset enough, Finn walked in at that moment. “Hey, Burt, do you want Mrs. Puckerman to save you a seat on the bleachers on Friday?” 

Kurt’s eyes widened and he let out a small squeak as he sprinted for the stairs. Burt made to follow him, but thought better of it. Kurt often wanted space when he was upset. “Yeah, Finn,” he said dejectedly, “I’d love a seat by Mrs. P.” 

He felt the judgment in Carole’s eyes when he felt them on the back of his neck a few hours later. She walked down the stairs slowly, eyeing him disapprovingly when she thought she wasn’t looking.

I know, he wanted to scream, I am a terrible father. I understand that. I can’t handle everything, no matter how much I want to. You all may think I am infallible but it’s simply not so, and damn it, this is one mountain that I can’t move. 

Burt didn’t even dare to hope that Carole would pass him by, but somehow, he was almost in the clear. Carole made to walk straight past him, ambling slowly by, judgment rolling off of her in waves. However, his dreams of avoiding a confrontation were dashed when his partner (calling her his girlfriend seemed so…childish) planted her feet and cocked an eyebrow, silently commanding him to speak up.

He wasn’t in too deep yet. He may have frayed the edges of one tightrope into total destruction, but this acrobatic act hadn’t been ruined just yet. This was one relationship he wasn’t ready to test. He had thought that his relationship with his son had solidified to almost perfection, but he had managed to break it in an instant of poorly timed inquiry. His involvement with Carole had yet to face any major challenges (besides the great basement debacle) and he wasn’t sure if their tightrope was secure. There wasn’t enough practice, and a safety net needed more time to form. Honestly, there should be some cosmic law regulating how much heartache one person could cause within twenty-four hours, because he was fairly certain that he had more than filled his quota.

He steeled his gaze, confirmed his center of gravity, bent his knees, and jumped without a safety check.

“How-” Burt cleared his throat. This was far more difficult than he had envisioned. “How’s he doing?” 

Carole’s face hardened even more, if possible. “Well, he’s pretty upset.” Burt nodded; he had expected nothing less. “Understandably, don’t you think, dear?” Terms of endearment had never sounded so dangerous. 

Burt mentally shook himself. He was a strong and economical businessman, damn it, why was his own wife so frightening? “I-I mean, it’s understandable that he’s upset, but I just-I don’t know how-or, really, what to do to fix it?” Damn. He didn’t mean to sound so weak, but it was really hard to stand his ground when Carole looked so disappointed in him.

“Hmm, you could always...Oh, I don’t know...Go to his events, honey?” Carole was a master of the guilt trip. She could have easily become a professional. Screw nursing, this was her true calling. 

Burt knew that it wasn’t as simple as Carole made it sound. When it was just Kurt and him, he had managed to attend the majority of the dance recitals, concerts, and (Burt suppressed a shiver) spelling bees. However, with two kids, Burt was finding it difficult to split his time evenly enough to catch any of Kurt’s expositions that didn’t involve Finn as well. Nowadays, if it wasn’t a Glee performance, Burt didn’t go. Sometimes his reasoning was that the garage was just too busy, and other times Finn had a game or match the same night. Usually Kurt was grudgingly accepting, if not thrilled, but Burt was beginning to catch that this particular event held a special place in Kurt’s heart. A small part of Burt wanted to blame Kurt for this; Finn had written his entire football schedule on the family calendar as soon as he had gotten it at the beginning of the season, but Burt had never seen as much as a scribble of “nationals” on the date Kurt had mentioned. He defended himself by saying as much to Carole, and her eyebrows pulled together for a moment before she pulled him out of his chair and frog marched him to the kitchen. 

There, on the fridge, marked on the calendar for the approaching Friday, was a veritable glitter and pen explosion denoting Kurt’s cheerleading competition. Underneath, Finn’s childish scrawl denoted “game 7.” Burt’s stomach dropped through the floor. He was officially the most narrow-minded, blinder driven parent in history.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, that's all I have so far! Anyway, comment, stalk me on tumblr; it's casual. I will double post to here as I update the meme fill, but I have to finish my secret santa WIP before I come back to this :) Tumblr is fishyspots too, as is livejournal AND ff.net. Unoriginal, but effective.


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